


The pages of my heart

by trailsofpaper



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1980s, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:18:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23202766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trailsofpaper/pseuds/trailsofpaper
Summary: Summer, 1986. Lovett has to tutor some jock in math over the summer so he can keep his scholarship sophomore year in college. Lovett figures all he has to lose is time, but when that jock turns out to be one Tommy Vietor, Lovett realizes he stands to lose a lot more than that. His heart, possibly, but definitely his dignity.__Inspired by all those 80s coming of age-movies and feel-good rom coms, and also somehow definitely by To All The Boys I've Loved Before. Lovett is a nerd, and Tommy and Jon play lacrosse, except they're also nerds.
Relationships: Jon Lovett/Tommy Vietor
Comments: 30
Kudos: 66





	The pages of my heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stressbaking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stressbaking/gifts).

> I didn't tag for period-typical homophobia because I really didn't want to write that. Homophobia is not absent, but I did my best to send Reagan spinning in his grave.  
Also, I'm super not American, so all my knowledge of American colleges come from Monsters University (2013), I'm sorry. My knowledge of math is.... Ten years old, at least, and I honestly don't know how much of it stuck with me. I don't know what they learned in the 80s either, but you're not here for the math. If you are, please know this is not the place to learn about math.  
I've only played lacrosse once in my life, so my grasp of the sport is extremely tenuous.
> 
> Title from Carly Rae Jepsen's _Want You In My Room_, because of course it is. There's also a [playlist.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0z7Kx8yHVWp1aQSWL8492n?si=231tFJMmStu9E8P8Y4aiNA)
> 
> Thanks to @semperama for betareading - any remaining mistakes are my own, semperama's skills as an editor are unparalleled and I appreciate you!

## 1.

"College is more than studying," everyone and their mother had told Jon Lovett when he graduated high school, back in 1985 and not a moment too soon. But someone could've told him that doing a complete one-eighty on your studying habits in an attempt to discover yourself was frowned upon by those providing him with a scholarship to attend said college. 

_ If only I could've kept going another one-eighty, _ Lovett thought as he trudged over to the library in the warm sunlight. _ A full rotation would have landed me at the start, and I wouldn't have to do _ this.

A voice that sounded suspiciously like Emily Black's told him that this wouldn't be so bad. Tutoring some guy for the summer to make up for lost credits was - well, it wasn't the end of the world. Lovett and Emily had been joined at the hip for most of freshman year, but of course _ her _grades hadn't suffered.

Sullenly, Lovett pushed the door open with his shoulder and slunk inside the cool library, leaving the temptingly sunny summer's day behind him.

Two o'clock on the dot he entered the study room, prepared for the worst.

His fears were warranted; at the table sat a blond guy in a varsity jacket, with his leather messenger bag open on the chair beside him.

He looked up when Lovett pushed the door closed and immediately got to his feet and thrust out his hand.

"Tommy Vietor," he said. His voice was surprisingly low - his face looked like someone who'd barely hit puberty - but as Lovett shook his hand, he also registered the solid, athletic build that absolutely matched the sound of him. 

"Lovett," Lovett said and thought,_ you look like if I wasn't helping you, you'd be shoving my head down the toilet. _"Did you bring your books?"

"Yeah," Tommy said and ducked his head before he sat back down and started to rifle through his bag. "Yeah, I brought all of 'em, I didn't know– I don't know what we should start with."

"Me neither," Lovett said and swung his backpack off his shoulder and sat down opposite Tommy. Tommy looked up at him questioningly as he placed his math books on the table, and Lovett shrugged. "Listen, I'd be happy to just– I don't know, do your math homework for you, and then we sign the slip of paper that says we were here, and then we can both go our merry way and never think about this again."

"I don't– I thought the idea was that I was supposed to learn from you," Tommy said, frowning. Lovett sighed internally. A jock with a conscience. First time for everything, he supposed.

"Alright, shoot," Lovett said and crossed his arms. "What are you having problems with?"

"That's a broad question," Tommy muttered and pulled a hand over his hair as he peered down on his books. "I guess, um. Everything except geometry is just– it takes me a long time to figure it out."

Despite himself, Lovett felt a spark of interest. "Okay, so what makes geometry so different?" he asked and sat up straighter.

Tommy looked up again, pressing one hand to his neck. "I can visualize it," he said, cheeks flushing a vibrant red. "I mean, you can draw a triangle and see how it works, you know?"

"I can't," Lovett said with a quick wave of his hand. "I'm nowhere when it comes to drawing, and rulers don't help at all. But you know what? You have a pen and paper, let's try to visualize, say, equations."

"Lovett isn't your first name, is it?" Tommy asked as he dug in his bag for a pen case.

"Very astute of you," Lovett said and tapped his notebook. "Let's apply some of that observational skills to numbers."

Tommy rolled his eyes. "I'm asking what your first name is, you doofus."

"Why do you need to know if you're just gonna call me a_ doofus?" _ Lovett said, testily. "It's Jon, if you must know, but everyone calls me Lovett."

"Alright, Lovett," Tommy said and looked down at the notebook too. "Nice to meet you."

* * *

Never in a million years would Lovett have thought time would go by fast, trying to make some meathead understand numbers. But in the middle of explaining to an attentive Tommy "do unto one expression in an equation as to the other" with the help of several circles and arrows, there was a loud slamming of a door somewhere out in the library, and Lovett looked up at the clock to see it was already a quarter past five.

"Well, I guess that's my cue to roll out," Lovett said and leaned back in his chair to stretch.

Tommy, who'd crawled halfway across the tabletop to be able to follow Lovett's notes, slid back onto his chair with a loud exhale. "I guess so, too," he said and put his hand back to his neck. He looked up from under his eyelashes at Lovett, who was already hefting up his backpack. "Hey, thanks, man."

"Oh– ah, no problem. Same time Wednesday, right?"

"Right," Tommy said, and his mouth even quirked into a small smile. Before he even knew it, Lovett smiled back.

He caught himself and shifted his backpack into place and booked it out of the library before his entire worldview collapsed._ Your life isn't going to change just because one guy who benefits from being friendly with you smiled at you, c'mon, Jon, _Lovett thought to himself.

Lovett wished fervently that his roommate would be out so he could pop his Pat Benatar album into the stereo with impunity and play it as loud as he liked. But when he got back, he found Travis lying on his bed, reading one of Lovett's comic books.

"Hey, that's mine," Lovett said, but without any real heat. He kicked off his sneakers to get up in his own, unmade, bed, and Travis shot him a look over the edge over the comic.

"Sorry, just borrowing," Travis said. "You got all the good stuff."

"My friend Spencer told me no one in college would read comics anymore," Lovett said and pulled off his socks too.

"Your friend Spencer sounds like a real idiot," Travis said, unbothered. Lovett laughed.

"He's not so bad. I bet he's reading the newest X-men right as we speak, and he's in college too."

Travis didn't say anything to that, and Lovett sighed with a closed mouth. He lay down and stretched his feet up toward the ceiling. He missed home, but he had a job here and had to tutor Tommy for the rest of the summer, so he was stuck in this dorm room with Travis for three months.

At least Travis was alright.

* * *

Lovett had been prepared, after that first tutoring session, to give Tommy a chance. He should have known better, because on Wednesday Tommy arrived nearly fifteen minutes late, out of breath and, apparently, out of excuses. He was dressed in a collared shirt and chinos and lugging a sports bag on top of his messenger bag.

"Hi," he said and slid into his seat - it was only their second time, but already Lovett could tell they'd keep to their own sides of the table for the rest of the summer. "You wanna keep going over equations?"

"I don't know, you tell me," Lovett said tersely. He could've taken on an extra shift at his shitty job instead of being here, or better yet, he could've been back in his dorm room reading the new X-men issue instead of staring at Tommy's stupid forehead.

Tommy gave him a quick look, but seemed to sense Lovett's foul mood. Lovett saw him square his shoulders and press his lips into a thin line before he opened his book.

The second tutoring session was all around a worse experience than the first. Tommy didn't ask questions, and Lovett didn't know how to explain anything. He saw some of Tommy's other notes, from philosophy class, and felt the world tilt precariously, which made him feel even worse. He'd expected Tommy to be an economy major, or maybe political science or something. That, and Tommy's notes were extensive, but his handwriting was wonky in a quite endearing way.

The third session was much the same. Neither of them wanted to be there, but when Lovett hinted at his original offer of doing his math homework for him, Tommy had sniffed derisively at him and then stormed out.

The summer was threatening to stretch out in a fog of misery, and to Lovett's great dismay, sulking about it didn't help. It would've been better if Tommy was a hopeless cause, but he wasn't. He was intelligent, and he really did put his best foot forward, which made Lovett think that it was _ his _fault. Maybe Lovett was just bad at teaching math.

And if Lovett didn't have math, what did he have? His sparkling personality? Yeah, because _ that _had done him so many favors.

And why did he have to teach Tommy, who was handsome and polite and, barring math, probably had straight A’s when he didn't play intramural sports? It was a hot weight on Lovett's neck every time, jealousy mixed with the knowledge that under any other circumstance, someone like Tommy would never give the likes of Lovett the time of day.

## 2.

On their fifth session, at a quarter to five, Tommy closed his book and said, "I have practice to get to."

"Practice, huh? Yeah, I also have a life, I get it," Lovett said and pushed his chair back. It took him a while to close his backpack and wrangle it on, so in the end the both of them exited the library together, under strained silence.

"Hey, Tommy!" someone called, and Lovett turned to see none other than Jon Favreau hop off the stone stair bannister and walk toward them. "And– oh, hi, Lovett!"

His hair was unfashionably cropped short, but his classically handsome face carried it well, and his easy gait spoke of an athleticism Lovett could only dream of. He smiled brightly and clasped both Lovett and Tommy's respective shoulders to look between them.

"Hi, Jon," Lovett said and resisted the urge to try to fix his own hair. Jon was one of those people who had no doubt been prom king back home, but wouldn't dream of bragging about it. When he'd been paired with Lovett on the debate team he'd made a good-natured joke about them sharing a name, like he didn't mind being seen together with a geek like him. "What's up?"

"I came to pick up Tom here," Jon said and shook Tommy's shoulder, like a dog playfully shaking a chewing toy. Lovett saw Tommy grin. "We have lacrosse practice. Hey, you should come!"

"No thanks, I don't play- what do you call it? Oh yeah, sports," Lovett said, just to see Jon throw his head back and laugh.

"I meant come watch," Jon said and squeezed Lovett's shoulder just a little before he let go.

"I went to college to get away from people like you, Jon," Lovett said. He sensed Tommy glance at him then, but Jon only laughed again and put his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"C'mon, Jon, it'll be fun!"

Lovett liked to consider himself above things like 'popularity' and 'being cool' but he still found himself saying "Yeah, okay" and following Jon and Tommy to the field a couple of buildings over.

Tommy and Jon were immediately enveloped by several other team members, who all apparently took lacrosse seriously enough to keep doing it when the semester was out. Lovett was left by the sidelines – literally, for once, and he was self-aware enough to turn his mouth up at the irony.

He swung his backpack off his shoulder at just the wrong moment – it bumped into someone coming up behind him, before Lovett had even realized there was someone there.

This someone shoved the backpack back at Lovett with a force that made Lovett stumble and drop to his knees. 

"Watch it, loser!" the guy said - a broad-shouldered guy with flaxen hair, dressed in jersey and shorts, lacrosse stick already in hand. The humiliation was hot, but Lovett recognized it with resignation as he slowly got back on his feet, aware of the fact that the guy had come to a stop instead of walking past. That probably meant trouble.

"Sorry," Lovett said warily. "I didn't see you."

"Well, you better–"

"Everything okay?" Tommy called. He was still a few steps away, but he had his eyes intently trained on the guy, and Lovett felt his cheeks burning that they'd been seen.

"What, is he your friend?" the guy said derisively, with a head-jerk Lovett's way.

Tommy was still walking toward them, and he said, calmly, "Yeah, he is," like he didn't need to think about it.

"Okay, whatever," the guy said with a studious shrug and started walking, making sure to push into Tommy with his shoulder as he passed. Tommy took it in a stride and stopped before Lovett, duffel still slung over his shoulder.

"You okay? Gene is a little–"

"I'm fine," Lovett interrupted. It was somehow important to him that Tommy wouldn't think him weak. "It was nothing, really. I hope he plays lacrosse better than he bullies people."

That made Tommy laugh, but he shook his head. "Don't let him hear that, he might think it was a challenge."

The rest of the team disappeared into the changing rooms while Lovett climbed up on the bleachers and tried to make himself comfortable. He wasn't going to be chased away.

When the team emerged again, a few players glanced his way — his red t-shirt was bright enough to draw the eye — but otherwise he remained unbothered, and could pull out his brand new Stephen King novel and read it while they warmed up or whatever. It was actually nice to sit outside for once, half in shade and half in the sun.

The sound of the whistle pulled him out of the book, and the frenzy of moving bodies was difficult to look away from. So Lovett watched as the practice match unfolded, the players clad in the white and blue shorts and brandishing their sticks, but without the pads and helmets Lovett had seen in official matches.

Since they were without helmets, it was easy for Lovett to pick out first Jon, who was the goalkeeper, and then Tommy, whose dirty blond hair gleamed in the afternoon sun. Lovett didn't exactly have an eye for what was good sportsmanship, but he was surprised to notice that Tommy seemed light on his feet, moving around and dancing away from bodily contact to catch the ball and pass it on. He'd sort of expected him to be the type to plant his feet, or crash into people at will.

Lovett was just mature enough to admit that a part of why he didn't watch sports was because he liked it for the wrong reasons. The shorts were really kind of a little too short, and Lovett felt the color rise on his cheeks when he realized he'd been looking at the legs of the players more than the ball.

No one would ever know, of course, but it felt like it was branded on his forehead, to be seen from space. He crossed his arms and slid down the seat a little.

He sat back up again when he saw Gene — his blond hair was recognizable as well — plow shoulder-first into Tommy and send him flying.

Tommy landed on his back with a thud, and Lovett imagined he could feel the impact himself all the way up in the bleachers. Jon shot up from his crouch by the goal and ran over to Tommy, who sat up only with his help.

Slowly, Lovett put his book back into his backpack without zipping it up and made his way down. He felt silly, since he didn't dare go out on the field, but hung back at the outskirts of it, watching Tommy bend his knee and push himself onto his feet. Jon didn't let go of him, and it was a good thing, because Tommy's knees buckled immediately and he only remained standing by leaning on him.

While the coach was chewing out the player that had tackled him, Jon caught sight of Lovett at the edge of the field and started to lead Tommy over to him. He didn't seem to be limping, but Jon was quietly scolding him while he tried to argue.

"You hit your head, Tom, you don't know–"

"I'm fine, Favs! Just a little woozy, is all!"

"You really oughta go to the hospital, Tommy–"

"It's no use! It's not like I have a concussion, I just–"

"Come on, just sit down!" Lovett interrupted and kicked at the bench with the side of his foot.

Tommy gave him another look that Lovett couldn't decipher, but he did sit down. He lifted his hand to gently probe at the back of his head, which made him wince

Jon gave Lovett a meaningful look. Lovett looked back with an exaggerated shrug _ — what do you want me to do about it? — _ but Jon only shook his head and turned to jog back onto the field. Lovett was left standing awkwardly beside a silent, hunched Tommy.

Eventually Lovett also sat down, sliding his backpack off his shoulder.

"Is it too much to hope that this knocked some math into you?" Lovett said. Immediately he grimaced, afraid that it was too mean. But Tommy gave a quiet chuckle and shifted on the bench beside him.

"If anything it knocked some math _ outta _me," he said regretfully. "Sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry," Lovett said and pushed his hands into the pockets of his pants. "We're all good at different things. If I'd been pushed to the ground like that, I would've split like a watermelon."

"Are you calling me thick-headed?" Tommy said, eyes locked on the field.

Lovett glanced at him and determined there was no threat in his words, so he shrugged and said, "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Didn't take you for a liar."

"I'm not!" Lovett protested. "You could wipe the floor with me, head injury or no, so I would never call you that! At least, not to your face."

Tommy looked at him then, a smile playing at the edge of his thin mouth. "Thanks a lot," he said. "I wouldn't wipe the floor with you though. I only pick on people my own size."

"Are you calling me _ short?" _ Lovett said, in mock outrage. "If so, you are absolutely correct. But unlike _ some people _I don't need to be tall to feel a sense of accomplishment."

Tommy threw his head back to laugh, and Lovett felt that giddy little spark of contentment that he'd made someone laugh. But then Tommy tipped his head forward, eyes shut tight, and pressed his hand to his forehead.

"You okay?" Lovett said, alarmed. But Tommy opened one eye to look at him and gave him a tight-lipped smile.

"I'm gonna have a bump, is all," he said ruefully. "Courtesy of Gene."

"Is Gene one of those your own size you tend to pick on?" Lovett asked, lightly.

Tommy huffed, a dismissive exhale. "Gene's like three times my size. He's an attackman who thinks midfielders aren't worth the space they take up."

"I want you to know I have absolutely no idea of what any of those words mean, but Gene seems like a real dickhead," Lovett said, mostly to make Tommy laugh again. He beamed when he succeeded.

## 3.

"I need a quarter," Lovett said and shifted in his chair.

Tommy looked up from his notebook. He'd been hard at work with a problem, and Lovett regretted pulling him out of it, but he couldn't sit still for another second. Tommy had been pushing the end of his pencil against his bottom lip, and Lovett had noticed he was left-handed.

"For what?"

"To send a letter, duh." Lovett rolled his eyes. "Why do you think? I want a Hershey bar or something!"

Tommy rolled his eyes too, but he sat up straight and started to rifle through his pockets. At last he produced a quarter, and Lovett grabbed it from his hand with a quick "thanks" and disappeared down the hall to find a vending machine.

He put the quarter in and while he waited for the candy bar to be pushed down into the slot, he leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the machine. Spending several hours a week with someone inevitably made you find out more about them, and Lovett had come to the conclusion that he liked what he'd found. Which was going to make it suck so much more when, two months from now, classes started up again and Tommy would never so much as look at Lovett again.

The bar hit the slot with a thunk. Well, whatever. Jon was still going to invite him to come watch lacrosse practice, but all Lovett had to do was just not go.

Back in the study room, Tommy triumphantly pushed his notebook across the table.

"I did it!" he said. "I solved it, right?"

Lovett bit off a piece of the Hershey bar and leaned over the notebook.

"Why do you eat that chocolate bar like it's a banana?" Tommy said with a tone of voice that made his feelings abundantly clear on the matter. Lovett made a face at him and bit off another piece.

"It's my chocolate, I'll eat it however I like," he said, chewing slowly as he studied Tommy's scrawled calculations.. "Yeah, this looks right. Nice work, Tommy!"

Tommy threw his fist in the air with a triumphant whoop. "Hell yeah! I think you owe me half of that Hershey bar, Lovett."

"The hell I do!" Lovett said and petulantly put the bar back in his mouth, pulling off the wrapper.

Later he would become familiar with that gleam in Tommy's eyes that promised mischief, but now it was a new experience that he didn't know to brace for. Tommy put his hands on the table and heaved himself up and forward, and before Lovett knew it, he'd closed his teeth around the back row of the Hershey bar and bit down.

For one, breathless moment, Lovett stared into Tommy's blue eyes and felt the heat from his face, their lips a mere inch from each other.

Then Tommy pulled back, and sat down with the spoils of his victory, chewing contentedly.

His thoughts having ground to a painful halt, Lovett could only blink at him. Tommy swallowed and looked like he was about to say something, so Lovett quickly broke off the rest of the Hershey bar and set it down on the wrapper on the table.

"Shit, I'm sorry Tommy, I have an extra shift at work, I gotta go!" Lovett said around the chocolate in his mouth, with a theatrical look at the clock. "Hey, uh, good work today, keep it up!"

Lovett was not a great liar, and so it was lucky for him that it was true - he did have an extra shift, even if it didn't start for another hour. He grabbed his backpack and was out the door without bothering to put it on.

Completely at a loss, he headed straight to the fairground. Whoever was on the day shift would probably be relieved to get off early, and dealing with customers at the ticket booth would at the very least make Lovett stop thinking about the flush to Tommy's cheeks.

* * *

Or, dealing with customers at the ticket booth _ would _make him stop thinking about it, if any customers would bother to show up. But no one wanted to be at the fair in the rain. Lovett slumped over to bury his head in his crossed arms on the counter. He didn't even have a book with him, so he was alone with his thoughts, which was insufferable. He groaned out loud.

"Is this a bad time?"

Lovett looked up from his arms and blinked stupidly at Tommy who was standing outside the concession stand, ducking his head slightly to look in.

"What– why are you here?" Lovett asked, dumbfounded.

Tommy shrugged and started to dig for something in the pocket of his varsity jacket. "You told me last week you worked at the fair, but I wasn't sure– anyway, I just wanted to apologize for, uh, taking your Hershey bar, so, here."

He pulled out an unopened Hershey bar and set it in front of Lovett's crossed arms on the counter.

"Is this bribery? Are you trying to bribe me to get into the fair?"

"What? No!" Tommy said, shocked at first, but then he tilted his head to the side to regard Lovett intently. "You're messing with me."

Lovett shrugged and grabbed the Hershey bar to put in his own pocket. "Yeah I am, but it totally worked. Let's go!"

"I– what?" Tommy said, now his turn to be dumbfounded, as Lovett set out the CLOSED sign and stepped out of the stand and locked the door behind him. The fair did close in forty minutes anyway, no one was going to come in.

"You successfully bribed your way into the fair with a Hershey bar," Lovett said and jerked his head toward the entrance. "So come on!"

He didn't wait for Tommy to follow, but Tommy followed him anyway. The fair was mostly abandoned - several food stalls had already closed, and the people moving about were mostly workers. Lovett didn't really have a goal in mind, but when they walked past the carousel, he caught sight of Emily, sitting in the operator booth and looking absolutely miserable in the rain.

"Hi, Emily!" Lovett said and sauntered up. Emily flicked her damp hair out of her face and looked meaningfully at her watch.

"Aren't you supposed to sell tickets for another half hour?" she said and, after spotting Tommy, added, "Hi, who're you?"

"I'm Tommy," Tommy said with a little wave of his hand.

"This is no way to greet your savior," Lovett said and put his hand on the door to the operating booth. "I'm here to relieve you of your duty, so why don't you get out of here and, I don't know, throw a crumb to one of those handsome boys who are queuing to go out with you?"

Emily leaned out across the top of the booth and ruffled Lovett's hair. "You're the only man for me, Jon, you know that!" she said playfully. "But I will absolutely take you up on your offer to get the hell out of here. It's been dead the whole day!"

Lovett scoffed dramatically and pushed her hand away. "I know you're only using me," he said, but smiled when Emily slung her bag over her shoulder and climbed out of the booth while blowing him a raspberry.

"Nice meeting you, Tommy!" she called as she walked away.

"You too," Tommy replied, but he was looking at Lovett as he said it. "That was nice of you."

Lovett shrugged and leaned on the booth. "You heard her, it's been dead all day. No use in us all sitting around and rolling our thumbs.

"So why don't you go home too?" Tommy asked and pushed his hands into his jacket pockets.

Lovett shrugged again.

Tommy looked over his shoulder, to where Emily had disappeared. "You're all about her, aren't you?" he said.

It took a moment for the meaning to land, but when it did, Lovett laughed derisively. "Emily and I are just friends. So you're welcome to take your shot, or whatever it is you guys call it."

Tommy's head whipped back, and he looked for all the world like a deer caught in the headlights.

"That's not– I mean why would you– I don't–" he stammered, lost for words. His cheeks turned stark red, and Lovett took pity on him.

"I don't think Emily would go for you though," he said with another shrug. "She's not into blondes."

Tommy blew out a relieved breath. "Well, that's good. I'm not into blondes, either."

Lovett's laughter surprised Lovett himself more than it did Tommy. He hid his mouth behind his hand and then looked up at Tommy, who smiled back.

Sometimes, Lovett's mouth worked without his brain interfering. This was one of those times. "Hey, you want to ride the carousel?" his mouth said when he put his hand down.

Tommy looked at the abandoned carousel. "But Emily left," he pointed out.

"I can operate it," Lovett said, and to prove it, he flicked on the lights. The carousel lit up with a cheerful music ditty, and Tommy took one, shocked step backward. "So why don't you hop on, cowboy?"

Tommy looked at him again, and Lovett could see him reach the decision to rise to Lovett's bait. A thrill of satisfaction ran through him when he watched Tommy walk up to the carousel and choose the picture book perfect white horse with red reins and swing a long leg over it.

Lovett busied himself with getting the carousel going, and when he looked up, he found Tommy sitting on the horse sideways, like in a lady saddle - or rather, like he was sitting on a bench.

"Terrible form, Tommy!" Lovett shouted, and when Tommy went by, he threw up a middle finger at Lovett. Lovett laughed out loud and settled back against the booth.

The rain was only a light drizzle, so it didn't really bother him. But his rushed exit earlier meant that he didn't have his jacket, so when the carousel was brought to a halt and Tommy staggered off, Lovett had started shivering a little.

"So that was fun," Tommy said and leaned on the booth with both hands. "I mean, I might throw up on you, but it was fun."

"Ew, gross." Lovett tried to be subtle about crossing his arms for warmth, but Tommy immediately frowned at him.

"You cold?" he said. Lovett shrugged.

"It's not so bad– hey, what are you doing?"

Tommy was pulling off his varsity jacket, and despite Lovett's protest, settled it on Lovett's shoulders.

"You've been out here in the rain with only a shirt," Tommy said sensibly. "Don't be an idiot."

He couldn't help but relax a little though - the jacket was warm from Tommy's body and very comfortable, and despite himself, Lovett pulled it close by his throat. "Now _ you're _the one in only a shirt!" Lovett said and tried not to look at the swell of Tommy's arm in his t-shirt sleeve. 

It was Tommy's turn to shrug. He gave Lovett a crooked little smile. "I'd say that's only fair."

* * *

The paper cup was unceremoniously deposited in front of Lovett. He blinked at it.

"What's this?" he said.

"Coffee," Tommy said and sat down opposite him in the study room. "I thought you were supposed to be a genius."

"No one ever said genius," Lovett muttered, feeling a pleased blush try to fight its way up his neck. He cracked the lid on the coffee. It was so creamy it was barely brown anymore, and Lovett didn't dare venture a guess as to how Tommy knew he preferred it that way. "You trying to bribe me again?"

This time, it didn't get a rise out of Tommy. "I never tried to bribe you in the first place, not my fault you chose to be bribed."

Lovett didn't have a smart retort, so he stuck his tongue out at Tommy, which shocked a laugh out of him. Mission accomplished.

* * *

"Turns out the coach is home sick today," Jon told them when they met up outside the library.

"Home with a hangover, more likely," Lovett said.

"Great, we can skip practice," Tommy said. "I'm starving, let's go eat!"

Beating rush hour meant that they procured a nice corner booth in the local diner, and Lovett claimed the innermost corner and immediately put his feet up on the upholstery.

"People are sitting on that, Jon," Jon said as he slid in opposite, but Lovett waved off his concern. Tommy just grinned and shook his head as he sat down beside Jon before burying his nose in the plastic menu.

Lovett didn't take his feet down until Jon forcefully shoved them down. He put them up again as soon as Jon's attention was diverted by someone entering the diner.

"Hey, Dan! Dan, over here!" Jon shouted and waved energetically.

A guy that seemed familiar made his way over to them. Jon beamed, bright as anything, as he introduced him to Lovett; "Dan, this is Jon Lovett! Lovett, this is Dan"

Lovett shook his hand. He thought Dan might be a TA of some sort, Lovett had definitely seen him around. He was a bit older than the rest of them, but Lovett could tell he was just one of those guys whose hairline had started to recede as soon as he hit puberty. His eyes were sparkling blue, and his smile warm when he took Jon up on his offer to join them and sat down beside Lovett.

"And you know Tom from before, right?" Jon was saying. Lovett saw Tommy duck his head, in an uncharacteristically shy gesture, and had time to wonder about it.

"Yeah, of course! How you holding up, Tommy?" Dan said.

Tommy looked up briefly at Dan, glanced at Lovett, and then looked back down. "Just fine," he said. "Lovett here is uh, he's helping me with math."

"I meant more– the other stuff," Dan said, lightly. 

"Just fine," Tommy repeated and smiled at him, quickly. This left Lovett wondering, with a burning intensity, what the other stuff was.

But Tommy didn't elaborate, and Dan seemed to drop it. "So!" Dan said and snagged a menu for himself. "What are we having?"

Dan turned out to be nice enough, unassuming with a great sense of dry humor. They had a good time, chatting throughout the dinner and then, when it was time to split up, all four of them promised to do this again soon, and Lovett found out he meant it when he said he wanted them all to meet up again.

He still threw one last look at Tommy as they parted, saw him trudging away with his bag slung across his shoulder. Somehow he looked very lonely.

## 4.

"You've been moping all summer," Emily said and pushed a finger into Lovett's cheek. "What's up, sunshine?"

"It's nothing," Lovett said and waved her hand away. She had found him on the bleachers during Tommy and Jon's lacrosse practice — how, Lovett had no idea. But she had sat down, like they did this every day, and began to pester him.

"When you say it's nothing, it is, by definition, something," she said, like it made any sense. Lovett made a face at her and tried to concentrate on the Stephen King paperback, but the movement out on the field kept catching his attention. "Why are you even up here?"

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer," Lovett said. "The jocks can't get me here, they think I'm one of them because none of them can admit they need glasses."

Emily laughed, because she was a good friend, and Lovett grinned, despite himself.

"No but for real," she said, still smiling, and nudged Lovett again.

He sighed. "I'm friends with a couple of them. Jon, you know, from debate? And then it's Tommy who I've been tutoring all summer. You met him at the fair."

"Oh yeah! Point them out to me?" she said and straightened up to look at the field.

"Tommy's the blond one," Lovett said, perhaps a touch too fast.

Emily only shook her head so her high ponytail bounced. "There's like five blond guys out there. I don't remember what he looks like, I just remember he was tall."

Trying not to blush, Lovett put the book aside. He set eyes on Tommy quite quickly, having learned to recognize his particular gait. He was staying on the outskirts of a scrimmage, walking back and forth, waiting for an opening - when it came, he darted in and scooped up the ball, light on his feet, as always.

"There, he's got the ball," he told Emily. "Jon's the goalkeeper."

"Whoah, he's got some shoulders on him," Emily said, detachedly, like a nature documentary narrator.

"Yeah," Lovett said, just as detachedly. Then it caught up with him and he shot her a quick, panicked glance. But Emily didn't pay him any attention, eyes firmly locked on the goal and with a start, he realized Emily meant _ Jon. _Well, he supposed Jon did have broad shoulders too.

When the final whistle blew, Lovett threw the book into his backpack, having made very little progress. As usual, Jon and Tommy peeled off from the rest to meet Lovett; Tommy broke out into a wide grin that dimmed somewhat when he caught sight of Emily, who had trailed after Lovett.

"Hey Lovett," he said and used the heel of his hand to push his sweaty fringe out of his eyes. "And Emily, right?"

"Yup," Emily said cheerily, popping the p. "Good to see you, Tommy."

"I'm Jon," Jon said. "Jon Favreau." His mouth was hanging open, and Lovett supposed you could chalk it up to being out of breath, if it wasn't for the look of starstruck wonder on the rest of his face as he looked at Emily. Emily smiled at him. "Emily Black," she said.

Lovett and Tommy exchanged a look, and the both of them had to hide their own smiles behind their hands.

* * *

"How come you never told me you had a car? We've been walking everywhere all summer, like chumps!"

Tommy chuckled and ran his hand over the hood of the car, like you would over the flank of a horse you wanted to calm. "I only took it out to drive home to my folks for the weekend, Lovett," he said evenly. "This campus is small enough that it's not worth the gas for less."

Lovett blew a raspberry at him. "Well, in that case, I'm going to use that gas money we saved to go buy an ice cream. For myself, not for you! You can wash that car on your own damn self."

"Oh, come on!" Tommy shouted after him, and added something quieter that sounded like "We?"

Lovett ignored him, but he did get two scoops of ice cream, and thanked the freckled girl behind the counter of the kiosk when she wrapped a napkin around the cone to hand it to him. 

When he got back to the gas station it was abandoned but for Tommy and his Buick that he inherited from, he'd told Lovett, his older brother. Tommy had already unwound the water hose and was checking the nozzle. He was preoccupied enough that Lovett could sneak over to the wall and, with the ice cream cone held out to a safe distance, turn the wheel one-handed.

There was a rumble of water pressure filling out the rubber, and Lovett turned around just in time to watch the jet of water hit Tommy right in the face.

He quickly turned the water off, before Tommy had the wherewithal to point the nozzle his way. Lovett then doubled over laughing, ice cream still safely elevated, even if it had already started to drip precariously in the August heat.

Watching as Tommy spluttered and used the hem of his soaked t-shirt to wipe ineffectually at his face, Lovett's laughter gradually subsided, after he heaved in a couple of deep breaths. Tommy finally let the t-shirt drop, eyes zeroing in on Lovett, who hiccuped into silence. He started toward him, eyebrows lowered. "Why, you–"

Instead of losing his composure, Lovett held out the ice cream cone. "You wanna try?" he asked, a meticulous evasion tactic. 

Tommy paused and blinked. Droplets were clinging to his darkened eyelashes, glittering like small rhinestones where they were scattered in his hair and sliding down his face. The moment stretched out in a silence that made Lovett hold his breath, and then Tommy, true to form, parted his lips and engulfed the entirety of the two scoops in his mouth.

"I meant you'd get a lick! You monster!" Lovett yelped, as Tommy's mouth slipped off the ice cream with a wet noise, bringing a considerable amount of it with him, some of it smeared around his lips.

"Guess it's mine now," Tommy said, through a mouthful of vanilla and pistachio.

"The hell it is!"

Never one to be upstaged, Lovett put the remainder of the scoops inside his own mouth to take a sizeable bite out of them himself. The brainfreeze was instant, the sensation centered at the base of his skull and spreading to his forehead. It was so much and so cold that he could barely taste it, but it was worth it for the dumbstruck look on Tommy's face.

"Well, I guess not," he said stoically. Lovett stuck out his tongue at him, coated in white and green. Tommy made a face back at him, but hefted up the hose to point it at his Buick. "Will you turn the wheel again?"

"Only if you promise me you won't hose me back. I'll let you have more ice cream if you don't hose me."

"Seems a good deal to me," Tommy said with a shrug. "Actually, this is pretty nice, I'll keep cool while I work."

"Work," Lovett scoffed, but he did turn the wheel, and then took a few steps away, to sit down on a low fence meant to guide cars into the gas station.

Tommy kept his promise and held the hose pointed to the car, conscientiously washing the grime off the wheels each in turn. He'd parked it on a small plot of grass, so the water would be absorbed instead of running down the pavement, and Lovett watched the runoff water darken the earth underneath the car.

He also watched the way the t-shirt clung to Tommy. The back of it had been spared from most of the spray, but it soon dampened with sweat under the afternoon sun and moved in hypnotizingly perpendicular wrinkles to the lines of Tommy's back. Lovett turned his attention back to the ice cream.

"You better come get some while there's still any left," he called, resisting the urge to bite into the cone. He looked up to see Tommy stopping by the wall to turn off the water, before he turned his way.

"Alright," Tommy said with a sunny smile, and then grabbed the back of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head.

He wiped his face with it and blindly held his hand out for the ice cream. Lovett blinked stupidly at the sight of Tommy's stomach, pale and flat, at the jut of his hip bones just visible above the waistline of his jeans.

Cheeks flaming, and not from the sun, Lovett held out the ice cream. "Take it," he blurted out. "You can have the rest."

Tommy's eyes, blue like the sky, appeared from behind his t-shirt as he pulled it on, tugging it back down over his stomach.

"Cool, thanks," he said. He took the cone from Lovett gingerly, looked him deliberately and politely in the eyes as a form of thanks Lovett thought his mother must've drilled into him, and then proceeded to consume the ice cream in five bites or less.

"You _ are _a monster," Lovett said, but this time admiringly, and shook his head.

Tommy smiled at him and wiped his fingers on his jeans before picking the hose up again. He turned the wheel himself, and Lovett figured he should have seen it coming, but when the stream of water hit him, it was a complete shock of cold that stunned him for a fraction of a second.

"Monster!" he spluttered, and Tommy gave a peal of bright laughter. Lovett shook his head like dog shaking off water, and charged at Tommy like a bull, heedless of the water spray. He hit Tommy right in the middle with his body and wrestled him for the hose, soaking both of them and most of the gas station too, rivulets of dirty water snaking slowly over the concrete as Tommy tried to hold the nozzle out of Lovett's reach.

Lovett grabbed the hose and yanked, hard enough that Tommy overbalanced. It sent Tommy sprawling, but that just meant he pushed Lovett with him down on the pavement in a tangle of limbs. Landing on his back with Tommy on top of him squeezed the breath out of his lungs, and Lovett gasped for air.

Tommy yelped, high enough to make Lovett laugh on the exhale. He was still pulling weakly at the hose, which was steadily soaking them, and he felt Tommy laugh too, a rumble somewhere in his quick breathing, before he pushed up on his arms.

Lovett blinked up at him, suddenly uncomfortably aware that his body had gotten the wires crossed, as if this form of physical proximity might as well stand in for another. The blood rushed hot in his veins. Tommy blinked back down, color high on his cheeks and lips parted, and Lovett thought _ No wonder, this is like any wet dream I've ever had. Didn't think it would actually be this wet. _

"Better get the hose," he said, voice strange and strangled. Tommy blinked once, twice, and then seemed to blink himself out of a stupor, because he scrambled up and off Lovett with a speed Lovett had never seen before, and had turned the hose off before Lovett had even managed to push himself up on his elbows.

It took Lovett a while to get back on his feet, but he was thankful that Tommy avoided eye contact all the while. Made it easier for Lovett to adjust his jeans undetected.

* * *

Tommy offered to buy Lovett a sandwich for dinner as thanks. Still uncomfortably damp but oddly hesitant to part ways, Lovett agreed, and Tommy drove them to a shop that was still open and let Lovett pick out a chicken sandwich and took a BLT for himself.

They sat on the hood of the now gleaming Buick as dusk fell around them, eating their sandwiches. Tommy offered Lovett a bite of his, and Lovett ruefully shook his head.

"My dad would kill me if he found out I'd eaten bacon," he said with a sigh. "I know he wouldn't find out, but it's like I can feel him breathing down my neck every time I even think about not eating kosher, and then I can't enjoy it."

"Oh, I didn't know," Tommy said. With a start, Lovett realized he hadn't even been wary about letting Tommy know, even though he usually tried to keep the fact that he was Jewish under wraps. Not secret, just– not obvious. He didn't need people thinking things about him more than they already did.

"It's not a big deal," Lovett said and flashed Tommy a grin. "Besides, you're allowed to eat non-kosher food if you're at risk of starvation, and I'm starving _ all the time." _

That made Tommy laugh, a bright sound that matched the light in his eyes. "Are there a lot of foods you can't eat, then?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"Am I the first Jew you've ever met? You're so WASPy, Tommy, gimme a break," Lovett said teasingly. But then he shrugged. "I probably eat foods I shouldn't all the time, but I don't exactly keep the rulebook at hand. What I don't know won't hurt me, you know? Like, if I don't know how this chicken was slaughtered, who's to say it wasn't kosher?"

"I guess," Tommy said, still smiling. Lovett smiled back, feeling strangely relieved.

A silence fell between them then, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Lovett figured he had that feeling of relief to thank.

He took a bite out of his chicken sandwich, but Tommy only tugged at the wrapper of his half-eaten BLT, his shoulders heaving with a deep sigh. Instead of saying anything, Lovett kept chewing his bite, and after a while, Tommy said, "My dad died almost a year ago now."

Carefully, Lovett swallowed.

"I'm sorry," he said, glancing at Tommy. He looked neutral, no expression other than contemplation evident on his face as he looked at his sandwich. 

"That's why– I mean, I _ am _bad at math, but I can usually keep up by working hard, you know?" Tommy said. His fingers clenched around his sandwich, making the wrapping paper rustle. "But last year– and then I moved from home, too, and left mom alone, even if my siblings live close by, so I tried to go visit her a lot, until she told me to stay here and fix my grades over summer."

Tommy sighed again. Lovett looked down at his own sandwich and thought about how his own parents hadn't even said that much to him. He told them he was going to stay and make up for his grades over summer, and they'd basically shrugged their shoulders as if they had expected nothing else. But at least they were both_ alive. _

"I bet you miss him."

"Yeah," Tommy said with a chuckle that didn't contain much humor. "Yeah, I do. But at the same time, sometimes I think... I'm relieved he can't see what's become of me."

"What?" Lovett said. He turned his entire body toward Tommy, and when Tommy looked at him, Lovett found him inscrutable, impossible to read. "What do you mean? Did he have something against seeing a polite, smart, handsome guy grow up? Get so much better at something he struggled with in just one summer? What the fuck, Tommy?"

Tommy blinked. "Well, I," he said, and then pressed his lips together in a thin smile. "When you put it like that, I guess I shouldn't complain."

"You damn well shouldn't," Lovett said with a scoff and took another bite of his sandwich to hide that he was blushing over calling Tommy handsome. "You're every parent's dream, Tommy. I bet my dad would like you a lot better than he likes me."

"Impossible," Tommy said and nudged Lovett in the side with his elbow. "I eat bacon, like, all the time!"

That made Lovett almost choke on his piece of sandwich. He laughed and coughed into his sleeve, and when he looked up, Tommy's eyes were sparkling with laughter again. The last rays of the sun, finding its way between buildings, painted his eyelashes gold.

Lovett's stomach flipped, and he wondered if you could throw up from feeling too much. If so, he was definitely in the danger zone here. He carefully tucked in the last of the chicken sandwich to save for later.

## 5.

"Where's Jon?" Tommy asked, when they sat down at the diner. "I thought he was coming with you."

"So did I," Lovett said and bent one of the plastic menus almost in half. "But Emily had to go somewhere and he offered to, I don't know, escort her or some shit. He just wants to hang out with her now."

"I suppose I can't blame him," Tommy said, flicking his eyes to Lovett and then down again. "She's nice."

"Nice!" Lovett scoffed. _ "We're _nice, he's just holding a torch for her!"

"Still can't blame him," Tommy mumbled. Lovett peered at him. His cheeks were flushed, like he'd been out on the lacrosse field. Had he jogged here? Lovett supposed Tommy had done weirder things. He didn't want to think that maybe Tommy was jealous of Jon. That maybe he'd lied when he said he wasn't into blondes.

"I guess we should wait for Dan before we order," Lovett said and glanced at the door.

"Oh– Dan's not coming either. He told me he had to run some errands."

"Some errands? Wait,_ when _did he tell you? Have you been hanging out with Dan without us?" Lovett demanded, slapping the menu down flat on the tabletop. The atmosphere between them was weird, and there was nothing like exaggerated theatrics to diffuse tension. 

Tommy's cheeks only turned a deeper red, and he kept his eyes trained on his own menu.

"Kind of," he said. "He was the one who made sure I could make up for my bad grades. We hung out before I met you. We didn't mean to leave you out or anything."

After the car wash, Lovett was a little wary of being alone with Tommy, just because he couldn't trust himself. They were skirting close to something, and involuntarily, Lovett blurted out, "You're making me jealous, Vietor!"

Tommy let out an explosive laugh, and Lovett relaxed. The atmosphere eased, and when Darlene came by to take their order, Tommy told Lovett it was his treat, so Lovett ordered the most ostentatious milkshake on the menu, with a rakish wink Darlene's way. Darlene didn't seem to care for it much.

Tommy grabbed an extra straw to mooch off the milkshake when she put it down between them. They ended up fencing with their straws, splattering milkshake all over the table, and Lovett laughed so much his stomach hurt.

In the end, he didn't particularly mind that Jon and Dan hadn't showed up. His and Tommy's friendship might have been on borrowed time, but all the more reason to make the most of it.

Lovett folded down the small paper parasol of the milkshake and slipped it into his back pocket before they left.

* * *

That night was warm, in that way only late August nights could be warm, with the cumulative heat of the entire summer pressing down on Lovett where he lay on top of the covers in his bed. He'd grown used to Travis' snoring in the bed across the room, but Travis had finished whatever job he was taking on for the summer and was spending the rest of summer break in the Catskills with his parents, and the dorm room was now echoingly empty.

The window was cracked, but it was still too hot. Lovett blew a damp lock of hair out of his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. There were cracks in the plaster, probably water damage from the room above. He thought it looked a little like a map of some fantasy land, with inked mountains and roadways.

Inside of himself, if he looked, he found a vague fear that Tommy had noticed Lovett getting hard when he'd been on top of him. If he had, he hadn't said anything, but he had seemed a little distant after they'd had their little tumble. The mood at the diner earlier had been strange.

Lovett wished– he wished he would have made a joke about it. Stuff like that had to happen all the time, he tried to reason. Bet you anything some of Tommy's teammates would stiffen a little out on the field, without it meaning anything.

The thing was that it _ did _mean something to Lovett. He wanted Tommy on top of him so much he could taste it. Would even consider picking up a lacrosse stick and tackle him to make it happen.

With a groan, Lovett grabbed his pillow, turned over, and pressed it down over the back of his head. Why did it have to be _ Tommy _ of all people? Out of his reach in so many ways. Played lacrosse, had many friends, was tall and handsome and probably had girls lined up ready to date him. The only reason he stuck around Lovett was because Lovett helped him with math, and Tommy had gotten good enough at it now that he'd pass the exam and never have to see Lovett again.

And it would be one thing if he only wanted Tommy on top of him, if– if it was only physical. But he _ liked _Tommy, he liked to make him laugh and he liked to be alone with him, even if they never stuck their hands down each other's pants. That was the worst part. He would want to hang out with Tommy after the exam even if he never got what he actually wanted.

A sharp knock startled him out of his bitter reverie and made him pull the pillow to the side. The knock hadn't come from the door.

Dumbfounded, Lovett stared at the cracked-open window, until another stone hit the windowpane and bounced off, a throw clearly designed to make noise and not break glass.

"What the fuck," Lovett breathed and scrambled off the bed to throw the widow wide open.

"Quit it, jackass!" he said in a loud stage-whisper and looked down. Outside, one storey below, stood Tommy and peered up at him. He'd thrown his varsity jacket over his t-shirt, clearly used to cool Massachusetts summer nights.

"Hey yourself," Tommy stage-whispered back. "I didn't want to wake the whole house."

"No, just me," Lovett said, a weird, bubbly feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. Tommy didn't know he'd been lying awake. "What are you doing here, Tommy?"

"I wanted to ask– you want to go to the drive in-theater? They're showing some horror flick, and I just know Jon is too much of a chicken to come with me."

Lovett blinked. Tommy was staring at him, face open but colorless in the dark. He seemed to wait politely for Lovett's answer, hands stuck into the pockets of his jacket, leaning his weight on one leg.

"Yeah, sure," Lovett said. He didn't think he could've given any other answer. "Just– wait there, I'll be down in a second."

He shoved the window closed and tugged on yesterday's pants, with the little parasol still in the back pocket, and decided the old band t-shirt he was wearing would have to do. He wasn't sure he had any other clean clothes at hand. He pushed his toes into his sneakers and forced his heels in while he trotted out into the corridor and down the stairs.

Strangely breathless, he pushed the door open and almost ran into a waiting Tommy, who smiled at him widely enough that his cheeks dimpled. Behind him, in the mostly empty car lot, Lovett saw the Buick waiting.

"Oh, so now we can drive," Lovett said, to mask the uncertain flutter of his insides. "What about the gas money, Tommy?"

"It's a _ drive-in _theater," Tommy said and jangled the keys at Lovett. "Not walk-in. Come on!"

* * *

"I didn't even know drive-in theaters were still a thing," Lovett said, looking out through the windshield at the huge screen. The movie had started before they got there, and he was uncomfortably aware of how close Tommy's hand was, still resting on the gearstick. There were only a smattering of other cars there, a comfortable distance away.

Lovett wondered how many of them were occupied by teenage couples making out.

"This one is only open during the summers," Tommy said and lifted his hand from the gearstick to fiddle with the radio. The movie soundtrack went from staticky to clear and back to staticky.

"Here, let me," Lovett said and slapped Tommy's hand away to tune the radio to the right band broadcasted by the theater. Tommy retracted his hand and put it in his lap, and Lovett tried in vain not to notice how the fingers curled.

"I don't think it's going to be too scary," Tommy said, just as the music picked up in a shrieking crescendo. The both of them flinched, and then they looked at each other and grinned.

Lovett looked back at the screen. "I'll hold your hand if it gets too scary," he joked. At least he hoped it sounded like a joke.

It didn't sound like a joke when Tommy said, "Promise?"

Lovett looked over at him. They were really close in the car, but still separated by a mile, and Lovett had no idea of how to read the look on Tommy's face. 

Well. The worst that could happen would be Tommy kicking him out of the car and never talking to him again. Most likely, that would happen when classes started up again anyway.

"Is this a date?" Lovett said, the waver in his voice prominent enough that there was no way for it to be read as a joke. His stomach hurt.

Tommy looked down on his hands.

"Only if you want," he said.

Lovett turned the radio off with a snap, and the silence settled on them like a thick blanket. He sucked in a breath.

"What– So you–"

When Tommy looked back up at him, Lovett thought he finally recognized his expression. It was fear. He didn't know Tommy could look like that. 

Lovett swallowed. "I kind of want," he said.

Tommy blinked. Lovett held his breath.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl when Tommy lifted his hand from his lap and set it on Lovett's knee. Lovett breathed out and looked at the hand, dumbly.

Then he shifted so he could reach over the gearstick and pull Tommy down for a kiss before he could second-guess himself.

It was a misaligned press of lips, both of them half-turned toward the other, necks bent at strange angles. Tommy's knee was pressed against the gearstick, and the parking brake was digging into Lovett's thigh. 

But.

But Lovett wanted it so much he trembled, and when Tommy opened his mouth against his, he couldn't help but make a sound, reedy and half-choked. He would have been embarrassed about it if Tommy didn't make a sound of his own in response, a small but unmistakable moan. Lovett felt it reverberate in him, felt it down to his bones.

He blinked his eyes open in surprise and leaned back just enough to look Tommy in the eye.

"Sorry," Tommy said, voice small. "I just– I've wanted to do that for so long."

_ "You've– _well, what about me?" Lovett said, his grip on Tommy's neck tightening. "Bet you I've wanted to for longer!"

Tommy blinked again, a flicker of fair eyelashes, and then his face broke out in a small but blinding grin. "I'll take that bet," he said and moved his hand up Lovett's leg so that Lovett's breath hitched.

* * *

The week after the drive-in theater was like walking on clouds for Lovett. Even though they couldn't really do anything in such a public place, their last math tutoring turned into a good old-fashioned makeout session, with Lovett half-draped across Tommy's lap, with a chair wedged against the door for privacy. When they went out with Jon and Emily afterward, they found opportunities to touch each other, while passing a napkin, or kicking each other under the table, even if they never did something so brazen as Jon sticking his hand into Emily's back pocket when they walked home.

Lovett had a boyfriend, and it didn't matter that nobody else knew, because the boyfriend was_ Tommy. Tommy _, who grinned every time he saw Lovett, and who ducked behind corners just to kiss Lovett on the mouth where no one could see.

Lovett had even started to nurse a hope that it would last beyond the summer, but the day before the first classes started still had him pacing nervously outside the library, where he knew Tommy was taking the make-up math exam. If Tommy failed, well, Lovett didn't know what that would mean for Tommy's continued studies, but if Tommy _ passed– _well, Lovett didn't want to dwell too much on that, either.

He kept glancing at this watch every five minutes, and kicked pebbles around in between. Settling down to read was unthinkable, even if the brand new issue of the X-men was burning a hole in his backpack.

When the door to the library opened, Lovett's head snapped up so quickly his neck hurt. Tommy came bounding down the stairs, hair wild and jacket open. 

"Tommy!" Lovett said, more a croak than anything else, but Tommy heard him and Lovett saw the way he smiled when he clocked him, couldn't help but feel hopeful. He wanted to strangle that hope, but he found that he couldn't.

"Lovett!" Tommy called and came walking toward him with his arms slung wide. "They graded the exam when I handed it in! I passed!"

"You did? That's great, Tommy, that's_ – oof!" _

Tommy knocked into him in a hug and picked him up to spin him around. It was just a half-rotation, easy enough to mistake for a kind of rowdy hug, and no bypasser took any note of them. But Lovett felt the dip in his stomach as he was lifted off his feet, and he thought, wildly, _ a full rotation would just land me back at the start. _

Tommy set him down and pushed him away by his shoulders to look him in the eye. His own eyes were sparkling, an otherworldly, bright blue, and his cheeks were flushed red. "Thank you, Lovett," he said earnestly, voice low and warm. "I would've never made it if it weren't for your help."

"All in a day's work," Lovett said weakly, and felt for the first time a real, burning want for Tommy to call him Jon. He patted Tommy on the arm. "Good job, buddy."

Tommy laughed and slung his arm around Lovett's shoulders as they started walking away from the library. It was the sort of thing two friends would do, but Lovett could feel Tommy's hip against his and thought that this was something else, still. Even if Tommy didn't kiss him goodbye outside of his dorm building.

## 6.

"Go, team go!" Emily screamed and waved a blue-and-white scarf over her head.

"You don't even know the team name," Lovett said, arms crossed. 

"Neither do you," Emily said primly and sat back down.

Lovett shrugged. He felt weird, now that they weren't the only ones on the bleachers anymore. They had filled up with students back from break, eager to watch the season's inaugural match between their own team and some neighboring school's team – Lovett didn't mind admitting he hadn't learned the names either.

He _ had _learned Tommy's jersey number - 18 - to be able to keep track of him, now that they all were wearing helmets. Jon had kissed Emily on the mouth before he and Tommy went to the locker room to change. Tommy had squeezed Lovett's shoulder.

The home team played fairly well, but Lovett suspected the defense wasn't on their best form, because Jon had to defend the goal all on his own more than once, with mixed success. They had watched them train enough that Lovett knew the attackmen weren't as coherent as they should be either — the shouts of the coach tended to carry. He could see it now, in the way the midfielders, one of which was Tommy, had to pick up the slack.

Lovett sort of loathed that he had picked all of this up by some sort of twisted osmosis during this summer. He'd taught math to a jock, but the jock had also taught him about sports, albeit inadvertently.

The whistle blew, and Lovett blinked. Was the match over already?

"It's a tie," Emily said, watching the field with rapt attention. "Oh– this is what they call sudden death, right?"

"Right," Lovett said. His heart was beating uncomfortably hard as he sought out Jon, standing by the goal in a half-crouch and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He then found Tommy, who was standing stock still near the midfield line, waiting for the referee to whistle in the overtime.

The whistle blew, and Lovett saw Tommy dart forward with a speed that no man his size should possess. He snatched up the ball and zig-zagged his way through the opposing team's defence as easily as if he'd been alone on the field.

The goal was within his reach, and Lovett was already half out of his seat, ready to cheer, when a player in red cut in and slammed his stick into Tommy's, and the ball flew out of the pocket. But apparently the attackmen had gotten their shit together, because one of them was right there to snatch it up and send it into the goal, right past the goalkeeper's shoulder.

But Lovett didn't notice any of that, because his eyes were trained on Tommy, who took a couple of sideways steps, and flexed his hands on the stick, like he was afraid of dropping it.

It took a fraction of a second, but then the whistle sounded and the bleachers erupted in cheers. Lovett found himself pulled up into a hug by Emily, the both of them yelling elatedly in each other's faces, completely caught up in it.

"Let's go find them!" Emily said, shaking his shoulders. Lovett nodded and together they managed to elbow their way down the bleachers and onto the field. Lovett felt giddy, and he thought he could finally understand why people liked sports, if this was how it made them feel all the time. He felt a current in the air, like his hair was standing on end, and if he touched metal, sparks would fly.

Even in the thick of the team's celebration, it didn't take Jon long to notice Emily and Jon approaching, and he pulled away to catch Emily in a hug. He lifted her up like Tommy had lifted Lovett up after the math exam, and a visceral tug of envy made Lovett shove his hands into his pockets as he watched them twirl.

The teammate that had scored the final goal was ruffling Tommy's hair hard enough to push him down into a bow when Lovett edged up and called for him. Tommy looked up and tried to push away the hand of his teammate, who Lovett recognized as none other than Gene — someone he had managed to not have much interaction with since the first day he'd come to watch the team practice. Gene only laughed and intensified his efforts. 

"Hi, Lovett! Glad you could make it," Tommy said, sounding both winded and a little pained.

"Of course." Words of praise were crowding on Lovett's tongue, but he was too afraid to let them slip out, so instead he said, "Hey Gene, why don't you stop giving him a noogie so I can congratulate him?"

Gene took his hand off Tommy and straightened up. "He doesn't want your congratulations. Get lost, geek!" 

And to prove that he had changed not at all during the summer, he gave Lovett a shove. Lovett was so unprepared it sent him stumbling back a few steps, and he crashed into another team member, who thankfully didn't seem to notice in the general mayhem of celebration.

Dazed, Lovett saw Tommy pull Gene back by grabbing the front of his jersey. "Leave him alone, Gene!" he said, already stepping past him to get to Lovett, but apparently Gene wasn't having it, because he grabbed Tommy's arm to wrestle him back.

It seemed to surprise Tommy just as much as the shove had surprised Lovett, because Tommy took a step back and then went down.

Lovett had been tripped enough times in high school to recognize it for what it was. Surprisingly vicious and so quick that you weren't even able to brace for it. Ignoring Gene, Lovett crouched in the grass to check up on Tommy, heart beating uncomfortably in his chest.

Tommy was grimacing and already sitting up, pushing up on his elbows, but when he tried to put his weight on his right arm, it seemed to give way. "Ow," he said, sounding more annoyed than hurt.

"Aww, poor little Tommy, so clumsy," Gene said and mock-rubbed at his eyes as if he was crying. "Did that make you sad? Huh? Are you so sad you have to sit out practice again?"

"Gene, go celebrate your winning goal before anyone misses you," Tommy said, voice quiet and flinty. Gene threw his head back to laugh before he gave both of them the finger and went to join the rest of the team.

"He wouldn't have scored that if it wasn't for you," Lovett said and looked after him. What the hell was this guy's problem? 

Tommy did a strange sort of shrug where he bobbed his head to the side. "That's teamwork for you," he said. "Where's Jon?" 

Lovett threw a look over his shoulder. "Some ways away, making out with Emily," he replied wryly. "Are you okay?"

Tommy made a face. "I'm fine," he said, but then added, "I think I might've sprained my wrist."

He held up his right hand and flexed his fingers, only for his face to contort into a grimace again.

"Stop that!" Lovett said and grabbed his shoulder. "Come on, let's go get some ice on it or something!"

"We can go back to the house," Tommy said and let Lovett help him get to his feet. "We have supplies there."

* * *

Before this summer, Lovett would never have thought he'd get to set foot in the frat house that homed the entire lacrosse team. He certainly never thought he'd follow a limping Tommy up the stairs in the dark, the house eerily quiet with all its occupants out celebrating.

Tommy's room was small and neat, the warm overhead light making it feel a little like a camp cabin. Lovett let out a quiet whistle as he looked the room over.

"If I knew you guys got single rooms," he said and looked at the map of the world that was hanging beside the door, "I would've tried out for sports."

Tommy gave a snort as he sat down on his bed. He was pressing a packet of frozen peas against his chest with his hurt arm and used his other hand to pull out a drawer in his bedside table. "Yeah? How do you think that would have worked out for you?"

"Poorly," Lovett said and sat down beside Tommy. The bed dipped further, and Tommy's thigh was hot against Lovett's. "Turns out I have a thing for guys who play sports."

Tommy smiled and pulled out a roll of bandages from the drawer. He dropped the bag of peas to try to roll it around his wrist. Lovett shook his head and grabbed the roll from him.

"You shouldn't do that before the swelling's gone down," he said and pulled Tommy's hand into his lap, gently. "And you shouldn't put the frozen peas directly on your skin, either."

"Who made you such an authority on first aid?" Tommy said teasingly. But when Tommy teased, it never stung. Lovett rolled his eyes.

"I've gone to the hard-knock school of life," he said, trying to sound self-important. "But I think you'll be able to play the violin again, if you just let it rest."

"Yeah, it's not that bad," Tommy said and looked down on his hand in Lovett's lap. He lifted his other hand and waggled his fingers. "Besides, I'm a lucky lefty."

"Lucky– hey, what, is that blood?" Lovett said, suddenly alarmed. Tommy frowned and looked at his other hand. The second knuckles of his index and middle fingers had split, and the one on his index finger had bled enough for it to gather in the space between his fingers.

"Oh," Tommy said and examined it detachedly. "Must've happened when that guy hit my hands with his stick. Didn't even notice."

"Didn't even no– Tommy, he drew_ blood!" _ Lovett said. _ "And _you have a sprained wrist! Does shit like this happen every match?"

"No," Tommy said. But he looked away from his hands and out the window of his room, away from Lovett.

"What?" Lovett said and pulled Tommy's left hand into his lap as well, to look at the damage, and to make Tommy look at him. "What is it, Tommy?"

Tommy did look at him then, something dark in his eyes. "It's usually just my own team —guys like Gene— who like to give me a hard time."

There was a weight in the room all of a sudden, a pressure that Lovett could feel behind his eyes. He didn't look away from Tommy.

"They shouldn't," he said. "They would've been toast out there today if it weren't for you, and even a loser like me could see it."

"Don't– you're not a loser," Tommy said. He curled his left hand around Lovett's. "It's just. I think the guys know– or at least, they know I'm not quite like them. Favs is alright though."

"Yeah," Lovett said, heart suddenly heavy in his chest. "He's alright."

Tommy smiled then, a small, private smile just between them. "But who cares what those guys think? You're much cooler than them."

Lovett laughed then, brightly. "You're the first one to ever call me cool," he said and leaned in closer. "I think that proves you're kind of a loser too." Tommy's smile widened, and Lovett felt his own pulse quicken.

They kissed, but just for a second. Tommy pulled back, making a face. "I'm really sweaty," he said apologetically.

Lovett made a noise and pushed Tommy's hands out of his lap to be able to climb over _ his _lap and settle down across his thighs. "I don't care," he said and kissed Tommy again. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears. "I think it's hot."

Tommy made a noise against his lips and Lovett felt him settle his right hand on his back, leaning his weight on his left to strain his neck and kiss Lovett more. Not even in Lovett's own fantasies had he imagined Tommy _ straining _ to kiss him, being desperate for it. The desperation had always been _ his. _

But Tommy was eager and_ real _under him, and there was no mistaking the hot press of his dick against Lovett's ass. Lovett whimpered, an undignified sound that was lost in the hot slide of their lips.

"Do you wanna– I could–" Lovett said incoherently in between kisses, tugging experimentally at the hem of Tommy's jersey.

"Yeah," Tommy said and immediately lifted his hands above his head to let Lovett pull it off completely. And in turn, Tommy tugged at Lovett's t-shirt to pull it off, and Lovett didn't even have time to be self-conscious about his gut, because as soon as he was shirtless, Tommy kissed his sternum with such abandon that it sent a thrill down Lovett's spine.

"I haven't– I've never done this before," Lovett said, because he felt it was important to be upfront about it. Tommy blinked up at him and trailed his fingers down Lovett's spine to the lining of his pants.

"Me neither," he said. "We could– I mean, I don't think we need to think about it. Just tell me what feels good, and what doesn't."

"Alright," Lovett said and thought that he couldn't imagine Tommy doing anything that didn't feel good. "Just be careful with your hand."

Tommy smiled with that wicked little glint in his eyes that Lovett now knew spelled trouble. And Tommy slipped his fingers underneath the lining of Lovett's pants to cup his ass, and to hide the shiver that wracked through his body, Lovett kissed him again.

It was a mess of fumbling hands and muffled yelps as they helped each other strip, and both of them were giggling the entire time, giddy and overwhelmed. When they tumbled down on the bed, Lovett leaning down over Tommy, they were shrouded in enough shadow that Lovett could give himself over to Tommy's touch, eager and exploratory, and reveled in how responsive Tommy was to his.

"Jon," Tommy breathed, as Lovett set his hand on him, and Lovett kissed him again, deeply.

## 7.

Lovett blinked his eyes open to the sliver of sunlight that was creeping in through a gap in the curtains. He breathed in deeply, allowing himself to feel Tommy's body, heavy and warm against his where they lay tucked into each other in the narrow bed.

He found himself smiling. They'd only jerked each other off, technically barely more than mutual masturbation, but it had been laden with a certain sort of weight. Lovett couldn't pretend anything else, not with how they held eye contact, and with how Tommy had buried his face in Lovett's shoulder to muffle a moan as he came. Lovett felt like he could lie here and watch Tommy sleep for hours, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and count the freckles on his body.

But nature was calling, and carefully, so carefully, Lovett rolled out of the bed and dressed as quietly as he could. A quick look at Tommy's wristwatch on the nightstand told him it was barely past seven in the morning, and since it was a Saturday after a game, the risk of running into anyone in the hallway was diminishingly small, so Lovett slipped out and tip-toed to the bathroom, which was on the first floor.

On his way back, he realized he was really, really thirsty, so Lovett dipped into the kitchen to get a glass for himself and one for Tommy. But there was someone in the kitchen, leaned against the kitchen table, and Lovett froze.

Jon blinked back at him, sleepy and bleary-eyed. He was dressed in a loose t-shirt and boxers, nursing a mug of something that didn't steam.

"Jon," Jon said and scratched the back of his head. "Morning. What are you doing here?"

"Jon," Lovett said. "Good morning. I, uh, I was just getting a glass of water."

A small crease appeared between Jon's eyebrows. "What? Why did you come all the way–"

Then the crease disappeared as Jon's eyes widened, and looked toward the stairs. Lovett winced when Jon looked back at him.

"Did you sleep in Tommy's room?" Jon asked in a whisper that was probably heard on the moon.

"Don't– don't tell anyone," Lovett said, moving closer. Jon set his mug down, and Lovett saw that it contained orange juice.

Jon, still wide-eyed, shook his head immediately. "Of course not, Jon, I wouldn't! Has it, I mean, have you– for how long?"

Lovett grimaced again, but at the same time the need to tell someone was clawing insistently at his insides. And Jon was asking, and he didn't sound grossed out or, or even judgemental. He just sounded like Jon, a little surprised and definitely curious.

"Not long. I mean, this was the first time we– that I stayed over," he said and leaned on the table too.

Jon's expression split into a blinding grin and he reached over to clap Jon on the shoulder. "That's great!" he said and squeezed, lightly. "Tommy has been mooning over you the entire summer!"

"The en– he has not!" Lovett protested and snatched the mug of orange juice to steal a sip. Jon shook his head again, still grinning.

"No, he has," he insisted. "He kept asking me about you, how I knew you, what you liked, and I tried to tell him that he probably knew you better, since he spent, like, all his free time with you."

"He did not," Lovett protested, but weakly. Jon just shook his head, still smiling.

"I'm telling you," he said. "And I thought you'd been, I mean, Emily said–"

"What did Emily say?" Lovett interrupted immediately, a cold hand squeezing his heart.

Jon blinked. "She called you a candyass and was waiting for you to get yourself together," he said sheepishly. "Her words, not mine."

Lovett hid his face behind his hands. When he peeked out between his fingers, Jon was sipping his orange juice and studiously ignoring him.

Lovett sighed and let his hands drop. "I never thought Tommy would go for me. Not– I mean, I'm_ me. _ And we're both boys, and he– he plays lacrosse, Jon."

"So do I," Jon pointed out. Lovett waved his hand dismissively.

"That's beside the point. I thought all jocks - present company excluded - all they wanted to do with me was shove me into lockers," Lovett said and crossed his arms. "I never thought I'd get the chance to, you know. Get with one."

There was a creak from the hallway, loud enough that Lovett jumped a foot in the air. If Jon hadn't exclaimed, "Tom!" Lovett never would've known who it was, because before he could turn around, he heard the front door slam, and then he could only see the silhouette of someone crossing the yard outside the house in the blinding morning light.

Before he could even make the conscious decision, Lovett was out the door too. Barefoot and cursing, he chased Tommy out on the pavement - and to all luck, Tommy wasn't moving any faster than a brisk march, because Lovett knew he couldn't keep up this frantic jog for long.

He caught up with Tommy at the end of the street, in the shade of a huge elm tree. Tommy was wearing a baseball tee and jeans, and he'd shoved his naked feet into a pair of sneakers, unlike Lovett.

"Tommy," he said, fighting desperately not to sound winded. "Tommy, wait!"

Tommy stopped, but he didn't turn. The stiff set of his shoulders told Lovett to tread carefully. "Hey," Lovett said. "Where are you going?"

A sigh heaved Tommy's shoulders into something looser, and he turned around.

"I heard what you said to Favs," he said. His eyes were oddly blank, but then, Tommy's expressions had never been a particularly reliable weathervane for his moods.

"Oh," Lovett said, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. "I didn't mean for– that's embarrassing."

"I thought this was–" Tommy broke off to gesture between them. Lovett could maybe guess what it meant. His arms fell down by his sides, fingers curling into fists. "I can't believe you did it just to– to score!"

Lovett blinked, thoughts spinning out in a frantic whirlwind while he tried to catch up with Tommy in another way, but he'd missed some essential step along the way. "What are you talking about?" 

Tommy gestured again, frustrated and clearly upset. "If this is some sort of– of revenge fantasy for you, then I don't want it!"

It stopped Lovett cold.

"Hey, no," he said, but not before Tommy had crossed his arms and started to turn away. Lovett reached out and set his hand on Tommy's elbow. _ "Tommy." _

"What?" Tommy snapped, but let Lovett keep his hand on his elbow.

"You've got it all wrong," Lovett said, heart hammering in his chest. He didn't know which words to choose to make it come out right. "It's not– this isn't about _ revenge, _ are you kidding? I just never thought someone like you, someone I _ liked, _would like me back. Do you understand how fucking nuts this is for me? That you would like someone like me?"

It was Tommy's turn to blink. His crossed arms unwound enough for his hands to settle on his sternum, unsure. Lovett kept his own hand on his elbow, willing it to keep from becoming sweaty.

"Not someone like you," Tommy said and met his gaze properly for the first time. "Just you."

"Aw, jeez," Lovett said and closed his hand to tug at the sleeve of Tommy's shirt. "That's real sappy of you to say, Tommy."

"Well, sorry," Tommy said, moving his hands to settle carefully on Lovett's arms. "I guess I just thought, when I woke up without you, and then heard you in the kitchen–"

"Next time, get it straight from the horse's mouth," Lovett said, grinning helplessly up at him. His body had already molded against Tommy's, instinctually, and Tommy smiled down at him for just a second before he dipped his head to kiss him.

Unlike their kissing last night, it was chaste, just a dry press of lips, but Lovett thought it was all the more heartfelt for it. He felt as light as a feather, like the summer breeze that rustled the leaves above them would pick him up and carry him away if Tommy wasn't anchoring him with his touch.

When they leaned away from each other, Tommy's cheeks were flushed and he was smiling. He dropped his eyes down, and then seemed to freeze, eyelashes fluttering in a blink. Lovett followed his gaze and landed on his own naked toes.

"Why the hell are you barefoot?"

Lovett wiggled his toes. "Well, my shoes are still up in your room. And you were out the door like a– I don't know what. Something angry that moves really fast. Had to catch up with you fast."

They both looked up at each other at the same time.The flush on Tommy's cheeks had deepened to a real, deep blush.

"I'm glad you caught up with me, Jon," he said.

Lovett smiled. "Me too, Tommy. At this rate, maybe one day I'll make the track team."

Tommy's laughter echoed down the still empty street, and Lovett had never felt happier.


End file.
